leep. When the sky first grew grey, so that we could dimly
see shapes of things, we heard a light noise of marching men on the road.

"The English!" whispered he that lay next me. "Hush!" breathed Randal,
and so the footsteps went by, none of us daring to stir, for fear of the
rustle in the leaves.

The sound soon ceased; belike they had struck off into these very fields
wherethrough we had just marched.

"Now, Robin Lindsay, climb into yonder ash-tree, and keep your eyes on
the mill and the beacon-fires," said Randal.

Robin scrambled up, not easily, because of his armour, and we waited, as
it seemed, for an endless time.

"What is that sound," whispered one, "so heavy and so hoarse?"

It was my own heart beating, as if it would burst my side, but I said
nought, and even then Robin slid from the tree, as lightly as he might.
He held up two fingers, without a word, for a sign that the beacons were
lighted, and nodded.

"Down all," whispered Randal.

"Give them time, give them time."

So there we lay, as we must, but that was the hardest part of the
waiting, and no sound but of the fowls and wild things arousing, and the
cry of sentinels from Paris walls, came to our ears.

At length Randal said, "Up all, and onwards!"

We arose, loosened our swords in their sheaths, and so crossed to the
road. We could now see Paris plainly, and were close by the farm of the
Mathurins, while beyond was the level land they call "Les Porcherons,"
with slopes above it, and many trees.

"Now, Norman," said Randal, "when we come within clear sight of the gate,
two of us shall seize you by the arms as prisoner; then we all cry 'St.
George!' and set off running towards Paris. The quicker, the less time
for discovery."

So, having marched orderly and speedily, while the banks of the roadway
hid us, we set off to run, Randal and Robin gripping me when we were full
in sight of the moat, of the drawbridge (which was down), and the gate.

Then our men all cried, "St. George for England! The witch is taken!"
And so running disorderly and fast we made for the Port, while English
men-at-arms might be plainly seen and heard, gazing, waving their hands,
and shouting from the battlements of the two gate-towers. Down the road
we ran, past certain small houses of peasants, and past a gibbet with a
marauder hanging from it, just over the dry ditch.

Our feet, we three leading, with some twenty in a clump hard behind us,
rang loud on